


Joffrey Waters menee Seinään!  ("Joffrey Waters goes to the Wall!")

by Worffan101



Series: Four Badasses In Westeros [3]
Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms
Genre: Audie Murphy begins fixing Westeros's police, Audie Murphy kicks ass, Cathartic mockery of Joffrey, Cathartic torment of Middlefinger, Exactly What It Says on the Tin, I blame AH.com, I had far too much fun writing this, Joffrey is an asshole, Middlefinger sucks, Robert continues to get back into shape, The White Death is a badass, White Death and Lady Death bond over being lethal, because that fucker deserves it, per his idiom
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-20
Updated: 2016-02-20
Packaged: 2018-05-22 00:46:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6064395
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Worffan101/pseuds/Worffan101
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Originally posted on AH.com, sort of as part of our First Annual Petyr Baelish Kill-Off.  </p><p>The continued adventures of 3 (now 4) badass real-world soldiers in Westeros, featuring Audie Murphy beating the tar out of a corrupt cop, White Death and Lady Death chatting about guns, food, and politics, and the Terror of Morocco continuing to whip Big Bobby B. into shape.  Also much catharsis for those who are tired of that sociopathic scum Baelish, and for those who want to see Joffrey experience karmic punishment.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Joffrey Waters menee Seinään!  ("Joffrey Waters goes to the Wall!")

**Author's Note:**

> Note: There is a lot of untranslated Finnish and Ukranian dialogue in this story. I tried to use stuff that would be easily translatable with Google Translate, admittedly not a good engine but a very convenient one. Most of the comments are insults (including 95% of the Finnish that the White Death says to Baelish), profanity (most of the White Death/Lady Death sniper fight), or should be pretty intuitive. 
> 
> I hope that you enjoy. :)

Audie Murphy marched determinedly into the guardhouse, two Stark men and Bywater's handpicked team at his back. A goldcloak moved to stop him with an outstretched hand. "Oi, you ain't allowed to be in here!"  
  
"The Lord Hand himself has given me permission," Audie replied, just as he'd memorized, and held up the letter with Lord Stark's wax seal. "I need to speak with Janos Slynt."  
  
"Oh, really?" the goldcloak asked, posture shifting slightly. "Weeeell, then, go on right in, third door on the right, and you have a very nice day, good ser. G'day, Captain Bywater." He saluted and moved briskly over to a rickety table, where he sat and carefully looked away.  
  
"Ronald. Thank you for doing this, Murphy, I've waited to kick Slynt's ass for a long time."  
  
"It's my personal pleasure," the soldier growled, throwing Slynt's door open.  
  
There was a yelp, an angry sound from Audie Murphy, an uneven thud like a man in boots stumbling as he tried to rise, turn, and draw his sword at the same time, and then a meaty _thwack_. Ronald the goldcloak peered around the corner of the corridor from his seat at the break table.  
  
There was a yell of pain followed by the sound of a scuffle, and Bywater neatly stepped aside as Janos Slynt stumbled out the door, a simple but well-made rugged boot planted firmly in his great behind, and crashed into the wall across the corridor. Slynt crashed to the ground and tried to rise, but Bywater grabbed him by the shoulders and hauled him to his feet, then kneed Slynt in the crotch before the fat man could fully gather his wits.  
  
"Janos Slynt," growled Bywater with unholy satisfaction, "you are hereby charged with dereliction of duty, failure to uphold the King's Peace, and gross incompetence. It is my very gleeful duty to relieve you of your command and place you under arrest in the name of His Grace King Robert of House Baratheon, the First of his name, King of the Andals, Rhoynars, and First Men, Lord of the Seven Kingdoms, Protector of the Realm." He drew back one fist and knocked Slynt out with one hit. "Gods, that felt good!"  
  
Ronald looked over to Bywater's men, and saluted crisply. He was a practical lad, at his core, and there was a new boss in town.  
  
Then Audie Murphy, the prisoner that Slynt had been interrogating in tow (pretty she was, for a Flea Bottom lass), emerged from Slynt's room and stormed up to Ronald. "What is this girl in here for?"  
  
"We, uh, picked her up for taking some sausages from a stall, uh, ser."  
  
"Witnesses and evidence?"  
  
"Oh, I was there, ser, I caught her meself!"  
  
"He did, and he hit me with his stick!" accused the thief. Audie Murphy, however, was focused on Ronald.  
  
"And why was Mr. Slynt holding her against a wall and attempting to kiss her?"  
  
"Uh...perks, ser?"  
  
" _Perks_???" Audie Murphy's voice was colder than liquid helium.  
  
Ronald tried not to swallow his own tongue as the smaller man's iron eyes bored into him. "Yes, ser, Slynt's--was--the Commander, so he gets to let prisoners go if they please him..."  
  
"That does not happen, _ever again_. What is the usual sentence for petty theft?"  
  
"If they stole from a noble they lose the hand, but from a merchant they just have to pay or they get thrown in the gaol for a month, ser. Pretty girls like that, ser, Slynt likes to let 'em go when they please him."  
  
"Bywater? When you're done locking Slynt up, and please kick him in the twig and berries again for me, take this girl to the merchant whose sausages she stole and find a good way of paying them back."  
  
"Alright, Murphy," Bywater replied. "What d'you think of making her carry meat around for the butcher for a week?"  
  
"That sounds downright American," the little man responded, and passed the thief off to one of Bywater's men. "I need to go tell Lord Stark about the reach of corruption and incompetence in the King's Landing police force. I'll be back tomorrow morning, alright?"  
  
"Got it." Bywater locked the cell door on Slynt. "Thanks a lot, Murphy."  
  
"Likewise."  
***  
Robert was lifting an anvil over and over to Juutilainen's bellowed encouragements when the Kingslayer opened the door to the main hall, allowing Ned and his guardsman, the one called Murphy, to enter.  
  
"Ned! Good to see you!" Robert roared as he finished his set and straightened, shirt tied around his waist.  
  
"Robert. You're looking well."  
  
"He has lost at least five pounds already," the muscular Finn judged. "Muscle is building back up, too. He will be healthy, if not meeting army standards, in four, maybe five months, six at the most. Army standards, that will take a year. No offense, but you have let yourself go, King man."  
  
"Want to spend some time with this anvil, Ned? Does wonders for a man's arms and legs, let me tell you!"  
  
"Perhaps another time, Robert. I have urgent business to discuss."  
  
Robert sighed and grabbed a bottle of watered ale. "Ah, confound it, what do you need?"  
  
"Lieutenant Murphy here has discovered pervasive incompetence and corruption in the Goldcloaks, going so far as Lord Commander Janos Slynt, who was taking bribes from an unidentified source and was not only releasing criminals before seeing your justice done, but also was apparently arresting innocent people."  
  
"What the...gods damn it, Renly never mentioned anything about this! How in the seven hells could this happen, and right under his nose?"  
  
"Robert, I do not wish to insult your brother, but the King's Peace has not been kept, and someone must answer for this, and urgently. I have ordered Janos Slynt removed from office and arrested as a preliminary measure, and installed one Jacelyn Bywater, an officer with a reputation for competence, in his place."  
  
"Well, if this Bywater's worth shit, fine, but I need to talk to Renly." Robert poured himself some thin ale and tossed the mug down. "Get him in here to explain this mess, then...heh, why not? Send a raven for Stannis, tell him to get his stiff ass to King's Landing. He's a tightwad and a sour bastard, but he runs a tight ship. If Renly's been as shitten of a Master of Laws as I've been a King, then I'll give his job to Stannis, teach him a lesson, get a good laugh out of it. And, Ned--I want to judge the Crownlands cases twice a month now, not once, so spread the word."  
  
"At once, Your Grace. Juutilainen, keep up the good work and you'll have some extra coin this month." Ned turned to leave, hearing Juutilainen begin to bellow again behind him.  
  
"Yes, sir. Alright, soldier, back to work! I want you on your back lifting the barbell fifty times, you hear me? And no shortcuts, soldier!"  
***  
_The Vale_  
  
Tyrion was no longer scared of the wolf. At this point, in the Eyrie and with the great beast spending approximately a third of its time either sleeping on Lady Stark's feet or looking expectantly at Tyrion until he scratched it behind the ears, he was actually becoming a little annoyed.  
  
"Couldn't you have left the beast back at Winterfell, my lady?" a breathless Tyrion grumbled for the eighth or ninth time as the wolf repeatedly headbutted his bottom all the way up the stairs.  
  
"I tried," Lady Stark insisted in between heavy breaths for the sixth or seventh time. "She escaped eight times from the kennels and insists on sleeping on my feet every night, she refuses to part from me for some reason." The trout lady's voice was a little annoyed. "At least she is protective of the children."  
  
"And praise the sweet goddess of tits and wine for that." Tyrion knew he was pushing it, and accepted Catelyn's snapped "Shut up and climb!" without further complaint. Some steps further, the Lady muttered a complaint about her sister holding the trial by combat up far too many stairs.  
  
"I think I'm going to be sick," Tyrion rasped another flight on.  
  
"I as well," agreed Lady Stark. Tyrion half-turned; the woman was looking deathly pale.  
  
"Are you sure that you're alright?" Tyrion asked, "because you look like you had something strong enough to leave you naked and covered with piss in a gutter--and trust me, I know what I'm talking about, it's happened to me before."  
  
She actually stopped at that, taking a moment to just lean against the wall, look at Tyrion with incredulity, and try to decide whether he was insulting her or not. Tyrion took the opportunity to sit, at which point the wolf tried to lick his face.  
  
"Gah! Call off the bloody beast already!"  
  
" _Iso koira_ , heel," Lady Stark rasped, still breathing heavily. Thankfully, the bloody great beast pulled back and sat on its haunches. "And Imp, the next time you insult me..."  
  
"I know, I know, you set the wolf on me," Tyrion muttered. _Iso koira_ yipped happily and panted. "If the heights are affecting you, you can just wait here and I'll act like it was all my fault, that I dragged my feet the entire way or something."  
  
The lady looked taken aback, but honestly, Tyrion had spent most of his life either being unjustly a scapegoat or trying to be one to piss off his father, and the Lady Stark many have been a bitch but Tyrion figured that pissing off whichever asshole was making them climb so many stairs was more than worth shouldering the blame.  
  
"I...thank you," the lady said in between slumping a little further against the wall.  
  
Tyrion shrugged. "We got hardly any sleep last night, got up early, and have been sleeping on rocks for far too long even before we got sent up these bloody stairs. I don't want to get up there any faster, either."  
  
The sellsword that Tyrion had hired chuckled. One of the Winterfell men moved to cuff him, but the sellsword slid his sword two inches from its scabbard and the man stopped.  
  
"What was your name, again?" Tyrion asked the sellsword.  
  
"Bronn," the man grunted back.  
  
"Bronn, eh? Do you like money, Bronn?"  
  
"Yeah." The man spat to his side, expertly knocking a fly out of the air, although that was probably just luck.  
  
"Well, as it happens, I happen to have a lot of money. And I would be willing to pay you a lot of money to help us up these bloody stairs and fight for me if need be."  
  
"I don't need help," Lady Stark protested, and then she turned and vomited on the floor.  
  
"...someone should probably call a servant to deal with that," Tyrion muttered. _Iso Koira_ whined. Tyrion moved over to the lady, since the guards seemed to be doing little more than shifting in place uncomfortably, and patted her shoulder as she knelt on hands and knees and puked. "Just breathe, good and deep, that makes it easier. If you ate something it'll go on for half the day, if it's drink it'll be over in a little bit but for the headache."  
  
"...didn't have any wine..." managed Lady Stark before retching again.  
  
"And we ate the same damn things last night. Bronn?"  
  
"Yeah, Lordship?"  
  
"Go and interrogate the maids and kitchen servants to find which idiot tried to poison this lady, will you?"  
  
"Alright."  
  
"Not poison," Lady Stark managed. "I'll be alright in..." And she retched again.  
  
"Uh...if you say so, my lady. Bronn, go upstairs and find out why nobody's come to get us yet, and I'll pay you when we get to my father."  
  
"Alright."  
  
The trial by combat, with a thoroughly annoyed Lady Stark glaring frostily at her sister, was actually a bit more fun than Tyrion would have expected. That Bronn won was an important part of that, of course.  
***  
_King's Landing_  
  
"You are requested at the palace, _Pikku-kusipää,_ " Simo Häyhä said in as bored-monotone a voice as he could manage, given the setting and his ongoing quest to insult the rat-like man as many times as possible and in as many ways as possible without being found out. Baelish looked up from the gyrating red-haired girl who he'd been "instructing", and nodded in acknowledgement.  
  
"I presume that I am requested at once?"  
  
"Lord Stark was very specific, _saastainen rotta-paskiainen_. He said, 'bring Lord Baelish at once, and accept no excuses'. Lord Stark is very upset."  
  
"Ah, I see. Well, just wait outside, then, I will be one moment."  
  
"Yes, _haiseva poika peikko_ ," the Finn replied.  
  
Baelish sent the girl off with one of his trusted pimps, then straightened himself in the mirror and applied a little perfume before stepping out into the road. Simo Häyhä was waiting, "rifle" held across his body, and fell in behind Baelish with practiced ease as the Master of Coin returned to the Red Keep.  
  
The trip was short and uneventful; the scene in the great hall was something out of a tale spun by a drunken minstrel.  
  
A crisply-dressed if still rather fat Robert Baratheon, nursing a mug of Juutilainen's thin ale and looking as though he would rather be anywhere else, held a letter in his hand as the Hand, Stannis Baratheon, Renly Baratheon, and Tywin Lannister all shouted at each other and at him. The three guards on duty were Juutilainen (looking alert and professional, but exasperated), the Kingslayer (glaring murderously at Lord Stark), and Ser Arys Oakheart (looking like he'd rather be anywhere else).  
  
"How was I supposed to know that the Goldcloaks were taking bribes?" protested the King's youngest brother hotly.  
  
"It was your duty!" Stannis snarled back. "Two-thirds of the corrupt scum receiving regular bribes from the criminal element? The Lord Commander failing to uphold the King's Peace? I have never been more disappointed in you, brother! How could you have disregarded your duty to the realm even more than this drunken oaf? At least Robert's putting in a token effort now!" He gestured angrily at the King.  
  
"Oh, this coming from the pompous prick who burned a whole cart full of food that we could have eaten when all of Storm's End was starving to death!" Renly shot back, causing Stannis to go purple with rage.  
  
"Oh, good--Robert, Baelish is here, we need to talk about the matters of coin--" began the Hand.  
  
"Not until we discuss your whore of a wife kidnapping my son based on a fantasy!" Tywin Lannister shouted back. The Hand's face went expressionless and he gripped the hilt of his sword.  
  
"Call my wife a whore one more time and I'll..."  
  
" ** _ENOUGH!!!!!_** " howled the King at last, seeing Baelish and Häyhä standing at the entrance. "Renly, Stannis, get the fucking sticks out of your asses and get out! My decision is final, I'm the bloody King, damn it!" Stannis ground his teeth and stormed out, Renly following behind. Their argument started up again as Häyhä closed the door behind them.  
  
"You, Baelish, get up here," grumbled the King tiredly. "And Ned, you're my friend, but I want a damn good explanation why your wife kidnapped a Lord Paramount's son, now."  
  
"As I was attempting to tell Lord Lannister via raven and here before your brothers came in, my wife acted without my knowledge based on her own suspicions, and I have already ordered her to come to King's Landing with Lord Tyrion. However, there _is_ evidence that Lord Baelish told me links Tyrion to the attempted murder of my son Bran--this knife, with a distinctive dragonbone hilt."  
  
"Let me see that," growled Robert. "What the...this is mine, I won it from Littlefinger here betting on that Tyrell boy to beat the Kingslayer on Joffrey's name day--you remember that, right, Lannister?"  
  
"I think--yes, you were waving it around while drunk that night," Ser Jaime confirmed. "You bet on Ser Loras to unhorse me and won, yes?" At Robert's nod, he continued. "But it's been in the armory ever since as far as I know, and you have that blade that the former Lord Hand gave you as a boy that you always use. You say this is the blade that was used on your son, Lord Stark?"  
  
"Yes, carried by a catspaw paid in Lannister gold."  
  
"I sent no such assassin," growled Lord Tywin, "and if you think to impugn the Lannister name..."  
  
"Quiet for a minute," Robert growled. "Baelish, why did you lie to my Hand?"  
  
The room went silent. All eyes turned to Littlefinger. He smiled weakly.  
  
"Er...perhaps my memory was unclear, my lord; I was feeling rather ill and tired that day, as I am now--I beg leave to retire..." He tried to take a step for the door, but someone grabbed him and held a knife to his throat.  
  
"I would not do that if I were you, _kävely kasa ihmisen sisäelimet_ ," said Simo Häyhä cheerfully. "You feel this knife? It is a good knife, from _maamme Suomi_. I use it to skin moose. Very good knife, very sharp and durable! What a shame it would be if it were tarnished by the _ulosteet_ that you call blood!"  
  
"You DARE to falsely accuse my son of murder?" Tywin Lannister growled at Baelish, his eyes glittering with malice. "Why you jumped-up little..."  
  
The Hand coughed, pulling a book from his robes. Baelish recognized it, and paled.  
  
"There is one other thing, Robert, Lord Tywin. I was looking through the books of finance, attempting to discover a way to reduce the Crown's expenditures, and I noticed something odd..."  
  
"Don't look at that, he's changed it!" Baelish squealed, and then squeaked with terror as the Finn's knife drew a drop of blood.  
  
"I would not move or speak, were I in your place, you _vitun lumikko mies_ ," the White Death said cheerfully. "Indeed, I would not. I would be more worried about my throat, and my _oksa ja pallot_!"  
  
Tywin Lannister leaned over to look at the book as the King leaned forward. Lord Stark indicated something. Tywin Lannister looked up, his face a mask of pure rage.  
  
"You _dare_ to embezzle the money that _I_ , _Tywin Lannister_ , have loaned to the Crown?" The lion's voice was a snake-like hiss. "I have destroyed entire families, women and children included, for stealing the Rock's money!"  
  
"That is not all," the White Death added, still maddeningly cheerful. "I have been talking, to servants and guards, as has Audie Murphy! Did you know that he had sex with your wife before you were married to her, Lord Stark?"  
  
"He what?" asked the Hand blankly. "But she was a maiden when we were wed, I should know..."  
  
"That's what you think," Baelish broke in with a snigger, laughing at the wolf lord. It was all burning down around his ears now, he might as well spread some bile and hope it started a war; they would all burn, for denying him his Cat! "Ha! I fucked her after your cretin brother "dueled" me, she came to me in my bed and I had her and her sister! Your heir's as much a bastard as the Queen's children, Stark! Hahahaha!" The Finn's knife sliced into his skin again, and Baelish trailed off with a series of snickers.  
  
The King looked angry fit to kill. "WHAATTT????? YOU...YOU CALL MY SON A BASTARD? I'll have your head on a spike for this, you little..."  
  
"It's true! Look at the brats!" Häyhä dug the knife in again, but Baelish jerked aside and cracked his head backwards, drawing a thin red line across his neck but momentarily sending the slight Finn stumbling backwards. "Look at them! Not a touch of Baratheon blood! She's been fucking her brother for years, you fat stupid oaf! She's more of a whore than any in my brothels, and she's cuckolded you for years, idiot!" The Finn recovered and lunged into Baelish from behind as the lord took another step forward, sending both crashing to the ground. "Argh! Get off of me! Get off of me, you stinking, ugly, scarred little--GAAAHHH!!!!!"  
  
Häyhä pulled back and struggled to his feet, his blade wet with blood as Baelish howled and clutched his groin. He looked down at Baelish, then up, an embarrassed and apologetic look on his face.  
  
"I am sorry. I swear that I did not intend to take his manly parts. I am not a very good field surgeon, but I can attempt to sew them back on, I suppose."  
  
"Your Grace, I demand this man's head at once!" Tywin shouted. "He levies unjust and vile insults against the Lannister name, and I will not tolerate it!"  
  
But the King had turned to his blonde-haired Kingsguard, whose sword was still point-down in his hands, the bigger Finn holding his rifle in a deceptively casual position to Ser Jaime's left. The Kingslayer fidgeted almost imperceptibly.  
  
"Lannister?" growled the King.  
  
"I..." began the Kingslayer, but then he glanced at Juutilainen, paused, and shook his head. "Fuck this, no relationship is worth getting Cersei and me killed. Your Grace, I beg mercy and will confess my crimes provided that Cersei may be sent to the faith, I to the Wall, and Cersei's children might live."  
  
"...Jaime, what are you saying?" growled Tywin Lannister dangerously.  
  
"Father, I am sorry. Cersei and I...we have always been...close. I...I am a weak man, Father. I did not stop the Mad King when he beat and raped his wife until she screamed for mercy, and I barely stopped him when he planned to destroy King's Landing with wildfire. I keep going back to Cersei, even though I really shouldn't." He lay down his sword and knelt. "I pushed a young boy out of a window, trying to kill him so that my secret with Cersei would be safe. And now Baelish has made it all for nothing."  
  
" _You_ pushed Bran?" snarled Ned, Tywin going white, then red, then purple, then white again.  
  
"Yes, and I wish it had been another way. Father, I am sorry. I have shamed the name of House Lannister, betrayed my King and my vows again, and I've let that rotten brat Joffrey be groomed to be King by Cersei. Your only child who actually deserves the rock is Tyrion, who you hate. I know how much this must hurt, Father, but it is the truth. Please, do not make Tyrion pay for my foolishness."  
  
There was a moment of silence, save for Baelish's whimpers of pain. Even the King was mostly silent, though he was rapidly growing red with rage, and seemed likely to bellow before Juutilainen lay a hand on his shoulder. Finally, Tywin Lannister spoke.  
  
"Jaime..." His voice cracked. "How...Why...How? How could you do this to me? All I have ever wanted was to make the legacy of House Lannister great, for you and Cersei and yes, even the damned Imp. All I have ever wanted was the line of House Lannister to be great again. How could you do this to me?"  
  
"I am sorry, Father. I have no excuse."  
  
Tywin Lannister collapsed to his knees. Lord Stark looked to him, and approached slowly.  
  
"My Lord Lannister?"  
  
"What, Stark?" growled Tywin. "What do you want from me now?"  
  
"I will return your son with an appropriate ransom as apology, and I will have my lady wife publicly apologize for accusing him unjustly."  
  
"Fine, Stark. Just half the damned Imp's weight in coppers will do. And if you ever dishonor my House's name again, Stark...there will be war."  
  
"I understand," Lord Stark replied. "Häyhä, summon the guards, and have Audie Murphy and his squad take in the Queen and her children."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"And Lord Tywin, I will still see the King's justice done upon Gregor Clegane for the crimes he has committed against the King's Peace and the People of the Riverlands. Häyhä, you will join Lord Beric's company and ensure this when you have finished here."  
  
"Yes, sir."  
  
"Go on, Stark," growled Tywin Lannister, getting to his feet and stalking over to Baelish. "Twist the knife a little more, why don't you? Will you make me pay for my son's indiscretion?"  
  
"No," replied the Northerner. "Nothing more. I will ensure that the treasury is refilled and the loans that House Lannister has given to the Crown repaid. Enough blood has been shed today."  
  
"Wrong," snarled Tywin Lannister, drawing his dagger. "One more man's blood must be shed."  
  
He sliced Petyr Baelish's throat open with one slash. "A Lannister always pays his debts," Tywin snarled to the Master of Coin as he died, Baelish's life-blood pooling on the floor.  
***  
_The Wall. Several weeks later._  
  
Jon Snow was definitely not expecting his brother, the Kingslayer, and the Prince to arrive at the Wall. The letter that Lord Commander Jeor had received was the subject of much rumor, of course, but Jon still found it hard to believe, that his father had arrested the Kingslayer and somehow convinced the man to go to the Wall, much less the talk of incest. However, as the caravan from Winterfell approached, Jon realized that it all had been true indeed.  
  
On the road, Robb Stark had never been more pleased to see the Wall.  
  
"For the last time, get me a cushion!" Joffrey whined. "I am the Crown Prince, and these crude peasant benches are not comfortable, nor befitting a King!"  
  
Ser Jaime, who had been a polite enough prisoner that Robb had let him ride a horse (albeit with his hands bound and tethered to two other men's horses since Robb wasn't a complete idiot), groaned. "Gods, Joffrey, you're going to the Wall, your buttocks are going to have to get used to a lot worse."  
  
"Silence! I am the Crown Prince, and I demand a fur coat and softer seats!"  
  
"Let him complain," Robb grumbled to Ser Jaime. "We're here, anyway." Castle Black's gates opened and a small group of Night's Watch men emerged to greet the caravan, including Robb's half-brother.  
  
"Robb!"  
  
"Jon! Am I glad to see you, finally I can get the brat off of my hands!"  
  
"He can't be that bad, can he?"  
  
"ARE NONE OF YOU DOGS LISTENING TO ME? I'LL HAVE YOU ALL EXECUTED! I AM THE CROWN PRINCE OF THE SEVEN KINGDOMS, AND I DEMAND A CUSHION!"  
  
"He's been like this the _entire_ way," groaned Ser Jaime, and Robb didn't have the heart to shut him up. "It's as if he's refused to accept that he's acknowledged as a bastard now."  
  
"A bastard? So you did sleep with the..."  
  
"Yes," growled Ser Jaime.  
  
"And she did have your..."  
  
" _Yes_ ," growled Ser Jaime, gritting his teeth.  
  
"...I...wow...what was that like?"  
  
Jaime winced. "Cersei...is a very demanding person. She is my sister and I love her and I cannot say more. I...well, I did some things for her that I rather regret. Trying to kill your brother, for one."  
  
"That was _you_?" Jon snarled, grabbing for his sword.  
  
"Yes. And it was also me who cut down the Mad King's Hand before he could burn King's Landing." Ser Jaime looked Jon Snow in the eye. "If you can hold off on trying to kill me, lad, I could teach you a lot about this world. Honestly, it's almost a relief to be here."  
  
"From what I saw, probably more of a relief to escape yer father's wrath," grunted the burly man who had driven the cart, now hitching up the horses.  
  
"Well, yes, that too, Ser Dale."  
  
"Jes' 'Dale' to you, Lannister. Me father's the Ser."  
  
"My apologies." Dale helped the knight dismount. By now, a small group of black brothers had arrived, including Ser Allister Thorne.  
  
"Alright, stand aside now, you too, Lord Snow; let's see who we have...well, well, the Kingslayer! Finally slay the right King, eh?"  
  
"No, just fucked the wrong woman," Ser Jaime responded blithely.  
  
"Ah, took the wrong lady's maidenhead?"  
  
"No, she was married to the King and wanted more." There was a queer tone to his voice. "And I love her, and I took her, and here I am."  
  
"Cuckolded the Usurper, did you? Well, at least we got a real fighter out of it, and I appreciate you pulling one over on that fat usurping bastard. Alright, you lot, take this man inside and get him something warmer to wear, we aren't going to waste the first good knight we've had in fifteen years!" The black brothers cheered, and eagerly led the Kingslayer off. "Who else?"  
  
"Serial thieves, a couple of pimps. Two former Princes," Dale said as he unlocked the carriage. "His Royal Brattiness wants a cushion."  
  
There was a round of laughter. Joffrey made as if to speak as Dale opened the door, but the big man grabbed him roughly and hauled him out with an outraged squeal. "Welcome to yer new home, Your Glorious Bastardness," Dale said with an exaggerated bow, eliciting another round of laughter.  
  
"Dog! Insolent worm! On your knees and beg for mercy, for I am most wrathful!"  
  
"None of that here, boy," Allister grumbled, cuffing Joffrey roughly and pulling the shackled boy over. "A bastard, eh? Well, you look nothing like His Grace, it actually makes sense."  
  
"How dare you! Unhand me, bastard rat! I am Joffrey of the houses Baratheon and Lannister, crown prince of the Seven Kingdoms! When my mother hears of this--ow!"  
  
Allister cuffed Joffrey again. "Shut up, lad. Here you're just Joffrey Waters, another Black Brother." He threw the shackled boy at the crowd, and Joffrey yelled angrily as he was dragged off to be outfitted.  
  
The next prisoner was small, plump, blond, and clearly terrified. Ser Allister looked at him, and sighed. "Prince Tommen?"  
  
"Jes' Tommen Waters, now."  
  
"Hmm. Well, Maester Aemon has been asking for an assistant, and the lad won't be good with a sword for years. Edd! Take the lad to Aemon, and make sure that he's kept safe!" Ser Allister shepherded Tommen to the waiting brother, and turned back to Robb and Dale.  
  
"That's all? Just these and a few regular scum?"  
  
"Yeah. Had to make a special trip, with the Lord Stark's lad here ridin' along because of the Kingslayer," Dale replied. "You want to talk with yer brother a bit, now, lad, or should we head back?"  
  
Robb looked at the sky, and winced. "Unfortunately, if we want to make the Hearth by nightfall, we have to get moving. But Jon...it is very good to see you, brother."  
  
"Good to see you too, Robb," Jon replied, wrapping his brother in a quick embrace. "You'll come by every year, right?"  
  
"Of course! It's going to be part of my duties, to stop by the Wall regularly. You stay warm and alive up here, alright?"  
  
"I will, Robb. You, too!"  
  
"Hey! Lord Snow! Quit talking and get back to work!" yelled Ser Allister, sending the last of the convicts on his way.  
  
Jon sighed and turned to leave. "Goodbye, Robb!"  
  
"Goodbye, Jon! See you soon!" Robb yelled back, and he, too, turned to return to Winterfell.  
***  
_The Riverlands_  
  
" _Paska. Paska!_ " swore Simo Häyhä as he slid another bullet into his gun. That had been too close. He spared a look for Beric and his men; the Westerosi men were already turning to flee after Simo's shouts and the gunshot had alerted them, their heads down to avoid bullets. " _Mitä helvettiä? Mistä helvetistä että laukaus tuli?_ " _What the hell? Where the hell did that shot come from?_ He spared another glance for the angle of the land; the bullet had snapped past his ear, that meant...no, that was impossible, another Finn wouldn't have shot at him on the grounds of national solidarity, it had to be a foreigner since the Westerosis didn't have guns, and no Soviet snipers that Simo knew of could handle a gun worth shit. Hell, the "elite" counter-snipers the Soviets had sent after him in the _talisvota_ had been poor, starving amateurs, using scopes and barely more challenging than a wily moose. Who the hell could it be? It was definitely another soldier from Earth, transported here the same way as Simo and his comrades...  
  
He could think about this later. Now, he needed to find a nest, staying hidden, and find his opponent without being picked off.  
  
Well, he once spent eighteen hours lying in one spot in the snow in -40 degree temperatures, he could handle the first competent Soviet he'd ever encountered. He hoped.  
  
A mile away and two hours later, Lyudmila Pavlichenko lay on her belly on the ground, absolutely silent as she scoured the landscape for her foe. _Чорт Фінський сучий син!_ she thought, her rifle trained on where the White Death had gone to ground. _Damn Finnish son of a bitch! Damn bastard's **fast**. This is going to be close._ Worse, the man was a _Finn_ ; the Red Army's veterans had horror stories of the Finns, of men with names like White Death and Terror of Morocco, Soviet men staked up outside their camps for the wolves, and Finnish diehards who melted like ghosts into the snow.  
  
_Come on, you capitalist fucker...come on..._  
  
A rifle cracked, and a bullet snapped past over her head, pinging off of a rock. Lyudmila shot back, tracking the sound and the muzzle flash, but got not so much as a twitch of motion in response. _Cучий син!_ The bastard was _good_ , had incredible senses and skill with the rifle. If he were on the same side she'd take him out and ask the Party for a marriage license.  
  
_Damn, that Soviet's good!_ thought Simo Häyhä as the bullet snapped off of the dirt a mere six inches from his head. He'd have to buy that man a drink, toast him in spirit. That was a damn fine soldier on the other side of the field. _Probably, though, the Soviet will be toasting me. He's got incredible aim._ On the incredibly unlikely off-chance that they both survived, he'd be taking that Soviet out for a drink and talk to the man about guns and dogs. Bastard was _good._  
  
Well, at least he'd given Beric a sort of guide to dealing with an enemy sniper; the lightning-vested man would have his troops make a very broad circle and come up behind the enemy's position. Risky, but effective; Simo himself had once almost been caught like that once.  
  
A pity, though. This enemy sniper was giving him a real challenge, something that he'd really missed since coming to this strange world.  
...  
Six hours later, Lyudmila Pavlichenko heard a twig snap. She otherwise wouldn't have noticed the rustling leaves over the already-present squirrels and birds, but neither of those were big enough to cause that particular sound.  
  
Lady Death flipped herself over and levered her gun around with lightning speed, seeing two men armed with swords and shields, wearing no armor. She fired, but the first man brought his shield up just in time and the bullet ricocheted off, though it left a nasty tear on the rim.  
  
" _До біса!_ "  
  
Lyudmila grabbed for her pistol, no time to reload at this range, the bastards were almost on top of her. She pulled the gun up and got man number two in the bicep with her first off-balance shot (he screamed in pain and fell backwards), but as she pulled her arm over to target the first man, he dropped his sword and _slammed_ into her with his shield. Lyudmila saw stars, and as she blinked she realized that her gun hand was empty...  
  
"Got you, you bastard!" growled the man, and something hit Lyudmila in the head, knocking her out.  
  
She came to slowly, a crackling fire a few feet away.  
  
"Oh, good!" said a cheerful voice. "You are awake! Good! Here, have meat, and a drink! We must toast to you, great sniper! I have never met a woman sniper as good as you before, much less a Soviet who can shoot! I hope that you are not hurting too badly?"  
  
"Ow...who the fuck are you, capitalist bastard?" Her hands were bound, albeit in front of her, and she was tied by both legs to a heavy log. Damn. The voice was coming from behind her, making sounds like a knife cutting something against a board.  
  
"I am Simo Häyhä, Soviet bastard! From _Suomi_! I fought you Soviets in _talisvota_ , you are a much better soldier than they were then!"  
  
" _До біса._ A damn Finn. Like one of the damn stories, _Біла смерть_ and _жах Марокко_. I guess you're eight feet tall and eat the Comrades for breakfast?"  
  
"Oh, no! I am simply a sniper. Prize-winning, but just a simple farm boy and sniper. Who are you?" The chopping sounds stopped, and the man moved in front of Lyudmila. He was short, wiry, and bore a brilliant smile despite the maimed left side of his face. "Here! Food. I will untie your hands, but Lord Beric has men ready if you try to run."  
  
Lyudmila grunted. "I assumed. I am Lyudmila Pavlichenko, Red Army."  
  
"Oh! I heard you, on radio! From America! You gave, what is...speech! That is it. You gave a speech, about your sniping! Very nice speech, I thought. Pity you are a Soviet, otherwise I would buy you drinks!"  
  
"Why are you here, Finn? And how the _ад_ did you get so good with a gun?"  
  
"Practice!" replied the Finn with a grin. "And I do not know why I am here. I, Audie Murphy, and _Marokon Kauhu_ woke up in this world, in a place called the North. How did you arrive?"  
  
"I woke up in a place called Lannisport. A Lord Tywin Lannister pays me to fight, ever since a man tried to have his way with me and Lord Lannister saw me shoot his eyes out."  
  
"Oh! Very good shooting! With the pistol?"  
  
"Yes! Fucker didn't even know what hit him."  
  
"Very good shooting," nodded the White Death approvingly. "I work for Lord Stark now. Good work, pays well. You want to join?"  
  
Lyudmila tensed, then shrugged. "Do I get a choice?"  
  
"Well, the other choice is up to Lord Stark. But probably prison. You were working with some very bad criminals."  
  
"Oh, I noticed, _Біла смерть_. The Mountain man, he was a fucking pig. Lorch, most of them, too." She chewed her meat for a moment. "You soldiers stick together?"  
  
"Yes, we do! We are all we have in this world, after all. We would be happy to have a good lady sniper, even if you are a Soviet."  
  
Lyudmila chewed her food some more, then shrugged again. " _Якого біса, чому ні?_ I will join you, capitalist dog."  
  
"Excellent! Audie Murphy and _Marokon Kauhu_ will be very pleased to meet you! And you will like _Iso koira_ \--she is a very good dog! Very gentle, good with children, excellent dog!"  

And thus Lyudmila Pavlichenko and Simo Häyhä found a great deal of common ground.  

**Author's Note:**

> The White Death calmly took out an average of 5 Soviet soldiers a day for 100 days straight in -40 weather. With scum like Baelish? Yeah, he's happy to hold that asshole at knifepoint. 
> 
> Lady Death and Simo's sniper duel is cut short; partly because it seemed practical, partly because it gave me a reason to have the two soldiers talk. 
> 
> Yes, I enjoyed writing Tywin breaking. Also, Jaime bows out because there's two men standing there who can kill him before he can swing his sword, and if that happens then Cersei and the kids (including His Royal Brattiness) are dead meat. This way, at least they live, thanks to Ned Stark. Downside is, Tywin is not happy. 
> 
> Finally, yes, Simo ended up naming the mama wolf "Big Dog" (Finnish: "Iso koira"). He thought it was cute. :D
> 
> Now taking bets on how long Prince Brat will last at the Wall before "slipping" and falling to his demise. :D


End file.
